Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus
by plumeria
Summary: "Never Tickle a Sleeping Dragon" -- But surely that doesn't apply to Harry, does it? **SLASH**


**Title:** Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus   
**Author:** Plumeria   
**Rating:** PG-13/R   
**Disclaimer:** JKRowling owns Harry Potter. No infringement intended.   
**Author's Note:** The title comes from the Hogwarts Motto. (Translation: Never Tickle a Sleeping Dragon.)   
**Feedback:** Yes please. Even short notes mean a lot to me. I accept constructive as well as positive remarks.

**WARNING:** This fic contains **SLASH**, as in same-sex relationships. If that's not your thing, fine by me. Don't read it. And don't leave flames -- unless you want me to share them with all my friends so we can have a good laugh. (You think I'm kidding?) 

* * *

Harry tossed his keys on the counter, shrugged off his cloak, and gave a cursory look through the day's mail. Then, unfastening the neck of his work robes, he made his way through the silent house and went upstairs to change into more comfortable clothing.

He paused in the bedroom doorway. A familiar lean figure was sprawled across the rumpled quilt. Grey eyes, capable of thunderous storms, chilling frosts, and molten heat, were hidden behind blond-fringed shutters. Only the slight sound of deep, even breathing greeted his arrival home.

The bedsprings croaked slightly under his weight. For a long, silent moment, he simply sat and watched his other half sleep. Then -

"Hey." No matter how much enjoyment he got out of admiring Draco's boneless grace, he was in the mood for something more interactive.

No response.

Harry traced his fingers lightly up his husband's arm. "Honey, I'm home," he intoned, mocking the scenes he remembered from Dudley's favourite childhood TV shows; they both hated the popular pet name.

Draco pulled away his arm slightly from the tickling touch, but the grey eyes remained closed, and the tousled head didn't shift so much as an inch over the patchwork design.

Spurred on by even so miniscule a response, Harry skimmed his fingertips along the more sensitive inner arm this time. "Come on, naptime's over," he goaded.

"Mmmrmmphh." A hand batted him away, then fell back limply to the mattress. Silence.

"Oh, no you don't," Harry retorted. "We're going to have some quality time _now_. And don't give me that 'beauty sleep' line you're so fond of. You're already the prettiest wizard in Britain - even Witch Weekly agrees." Abandoning subtleties, he launched into a full-scale tickling attack on the sleeper's ribs. 

With a roar, the dragon awoke.

In an instant, Harry found himself pinned to the bed, held there by a weight which matched his own, and further secured by the long muscled legs which straddled his hips. Strong, slim fingers held his wrists at his side, rendering him nearly as motionless as any body-binding charm.

"You _know_ how much I hate that," Draco growled.

Harry smiled innocently. "It got you up, didn't it? And I'll have you know I tried more subtle methods first, but you insisted on snoring right through them."

"I don't snore."

"How would you know?" Harry tried to wrest one of his hands free, but the blond held them fast. "Ok, fine, fine. You don't snore. You going to let me go now?"

"No way. In fact," Draco shifted his grip so he could pin both of Harry's hands over his dark head in a single long-fingered manacle. "Now seems to be the ideal moment for a little revenge." 

"And here I was thinking that you had lost some of those oh-so-charming Slytherin qual-_yipe!_" Harry's remark was cut off as his lover's free hand began working its way to his more ticklish regions.

Draco smiled calmly as his fingers continued their attack. "And here _I_ was thinking that you still had that Gryffindor sense of fairness."

Whatever he was going to say next was lost in the tumble as Harry wrenched himself free from his grip, and rolled them back over so he was on top again. "All's fair in love and war, my love," he grinned. And the battle began. Rolling, pouncing, pinning, tickling - the rumpled quilt became their battlefield. Momentarily on the losing side, Draco lifted his head to suck on Harry's earlobe; the distraction worked, and in seconds he was able to flip his dark-haired partner back over.

"You fight dirty," Harry complained, launching himself at a particularly sensitive area on the other man's neck. Draco gasped as the warm mouth found its target; he hardly noticed that he was once again on his back. Suddenly it didn't seem like such a bad place to be, what with Harry's pelvis against his own; he pushed his hips up against the weight that held him.

"Are you calling for a truce?" The green eyes sparkled suggestively.

"Nah." Long fingers were pulling at the remains of Harry's robes, and then his shirt. "Just taking a break. All part of my long-term revenge plan."

Harry's voice was muffled against his lips. "Uh huh. I bet."

A belt slithered out of its loops. "I'm serious. I haven't forgotten the tickle wake-up call. You better watch yourself."

"Mmmhmmm." One pair of boxers joined the clothing heap.

"Damn overconfident Gryffindor." And another pair. "I can't believe I'm letting you distract me like this again."

Skin pressed against him, head to toe. "Why do you think I tickle you awake so often?"

(end)

Feedback is greatly appreciated.


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